


Wounded

by witchyavenger



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Established Relationship, Other, Soft Iorveth, a lil angsty, gender neutral reader, insecure Iorveth, talk of wounds and scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26322169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchyavenger/pseuds/witchyavenger
Summary: Aen Seidhe, like most elves, are considered more beautiful than any other race. His lost eye and a scar across his face always made Iorveth feel insecure, so he keeps it covered. One night however he wants to show it to you.
Relationships: Iorveth (The Witcher) & Reader, Iorveth (The Witcher)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> Never thought I’d share this because his character is so niche I don’t think anyone will ever see this lol but I love one (1) elf boi.  
> Also on tumblr: @witchyavenger https://witchyavenger.tumblr.com/post/628510198401777664/wounded

Your back was hurting like hell. Your muscles were so sore that even trying to relax in the warm bath tub was uncomfortable. But it was nice to feel clean again. Stepping out of the tub, you dried yourself before putting on clothes for bed. You wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet for the night. The sun had already set and you were ready to get a good nights sleep. For once at least.

Life wasn’t easy these days. You were a human raised by dwarves and halflings, and educated by elven mages before traveling with them. Race conflict was omnipresent in your life. For centuries humans tried to extinguish the other races or force them into submission, by stealing their land, their homes and everything they had. At the moment the elves were still having the biggest issues, being systematically pursued by armies. Their oppression and genocide had reached outrageous dimensions. You had joined them in their fight for a better life and made it your personal goal to create a world where humans and non-humans lived among each other without hatred and bigotry. Of course you were worn out from facing new challenges and fights, physical and verbal, each day. Taking care of yourself wasn’t something you got the chance to do very often. Supporting the elves was your priority.

You were all the more excited that the day, although tough, had been successful and you had the night to yourself. Finally some time to pick up something to read and learn again. Book in hand, you got comfortable on the cot. You hadn’t been reading for no more than ten minutes when the door opened and Iorveth walked inside.

After you started working with the elves, you were bound to meet him. He was one of the most famous of the Scoia’tael after all. His face graced wanted posters all around the Northern Kingdoms. His opinion was valued by everyone and because of that, no one was really trusted until Iorveth gave his approval. So you met and had to prove to him, that not all Dh’oine were hateful and should be hated in turn. He was very careful in trusting you at first, rightfully so, but after a while he was sure you’re intentions were good, honest and you were willing to give everything. Your passion was barely surpassed by his own and he admired you, just as much as you did him. You were kindred spirits and your relationship developed. Comrades, friends and confidantes were all words suited to describe you at some point. But it only took so long until the two of you became more… partners, equals, lovers.

The tall elf looked tired. He too was glad about how the recent events had turned out, but was exhausted none the less. No one could understand that better than you. You greeted him and he gave you one of his rare, small smiles. He took off his weapons and leaned them against the wall. Then proceeded to pull clothes out of the drawers and laied them on top of the cabinet. Standing there, propped up on his hands, he looked into the mirror that hung right above. As he stood there for a while, with his back turned towards you, you admired him quietly. The muscles in his arms tense from leaning on. His strong shoulders which were silently asking to be massaged. You knew something was up, you could read him, but before you could ask he spoke up.

“Y/N?” You only hummed in response. He lowered his head, so you could no longer see the reflection of his face. “I… I wanted to know if you’ve ever really seen my scar.”

The question came as a surprise to you. Iorveth almost always covered half of his face, including his missing eye, with a red headscarf. One reason for hiding the scar was probably that he didn’t want to scare anyone with it and because he was understandably not very fond of the people around him constantly gawking at it. But you always suspected there was something else behind it as well. The Aen Seidhe were typically considered to be of radiant beauty. Flawlessness even. A scar like his, must make him feel self-conscious. In order to save face, keep his pride, he concealed it. You never mentioned it to him, wanting to give him the time he needs to talk about it. Even if he might never have done so, you would have been okay with it.

“I mean I’ve seen it uncovered, but only in passing… fleetingly. I never really looked at it”

You were nervous and cautious about your every word, this was a sensitive topic. You had seen it of course, but it was usually at night or, like you told him, only in passing.

“I uhm…” he started his voice deep and gravely. “Is it okay if I take of the headscarf?” The question was so quiet, so unsure that you immediately knew you were right. He was self-conscious. Your chest hurt as your heart broke. How you wished you had been wrong. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel embarrassed or ashamed, because he was so incredibly gorgeous.

After not having dared to move a muscle before, you quickly sat up straight, “Yes. Of course,” you said softly.

“Are you sure? It looks terrible when you really look at it.”

“Iorveth,” you interrupted him. “I promise you, that it doesn’t matter what it looks like. Especially not to me. If you want to take the scarf of, please do. If you are not comfortable with that, keep it on. The most important thing is, that you know that no matter what it looks like, you’re still beautiful.”

While speaking you stood up and approached him. Careful not to startle him, you slowly moved beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He softened under your touch and you slid your hand along his skin to his neck. When he turned to you, his expression showed too many feelings to detect them all. A rare sight, since he was usually very composed.

“I want you to see it,” he spoke firmly. You nodded and looked deep into his eyes. Trying to tell him what you couldn’t put into words.

Iorveth opened the scarf and removed the red fabric. Underneath it appeared the long scar, that ended at the corner of his mouth. Scar tissues surrounded the area, where his eye should have been. The lid was almost closed and swollen red, almost covering the eye socket. It was stupid and funny but you had always admired how he could shoot an arrow at a barely visible target, when he only had one eye. Your gaze moved over the healed wound only for a moment.

What was also exposed now was his hair. His dark strands now shining in the dim light. You found your fingers reaching for it and lightly brushing it.

“What do you think?” His voice was shy.

“I see the same person as before. Only now I see all of him. And I think he’s gorgeous and I’m grateful he wanted to share this with me.”

“Doesn’t it look awful?”

You decided that an honest and direct answer would be best: “It does. However, it doesn’t contort you. You have the reminder of a wound in very prominent place. It’s proof of a life lived in war. A life lived making sacrifices for a greater purpose,” you spoke slowly and paused for a second, waiting for a reaction but he only looked at you. “I know technically a scar doesn’t proof someone to be a hero or make someone more of one, but neither does it indicate unsightliness or make one less pretty.”

Iorveth let out a deep breath. He believed your words. He was relieved you weren’t put off, deep down he had known you wouldn’t be, but it had been a deeply rooted insecurity for a long time. Your touch, always soft, no matter if holding his neck or brushing through his hair, now moved to his cheek. Your fingers feeling the uneven skin that graced the right side of his face. He didn’t feel exposed anymore. The wound on his face had healed into a scar, but that scar left a wound on his soul, that was just now starting to close. He felt okay, almost comfortable, easing more under your caress. When he opened his eyes and looked at you, you were smiling. His arms snaked around your back and pulled you close. A small gasp escaped you in surprise and you looked at his expression changing. For a mere second he seemed hesitant. Before he could do anything or decide not to do anything, you had already closed the distance between your mouths. Pressing your lips to his, everything else was forgotten and he returned the kiss.

The next morning he put on the head band again. But he was okay with the thought of people who might see the wounded skin sometime. Felt okay with having a scar. Most importantly he knew he would take the scarf off again at night.


End file.
